25
by Italy's Driving
Summary: A look into the mind of the makings of a madman during a not so bad but not so good day. A sort of character study of APH France.


25

 **Hiya! I shouldn't be doing this. I should be focusing on other things. But I'm not. Oh well. Historical Hetalia time! I do not own Hetalia, it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya! Onto torturing France!**

I APOLOGIZE FOR THE ANGSTYNESS OF THIS. EXCEPT I DON'T REGRET THIS

For every Nation there were certain days that were good, certain days that were bad and days that were an odd combination of both. France had many of each of these days. For example, Bastille Day is a happy day, the day he lost Canada to England is a bad day, and August 25 is the perfect example of an inbetween day. It's a day that France neither hates to wake up to, nor loves to experience.

Every year, he is mad. No, no, he is not angry. But he can feel madness creeping at the edges of his vision. He can feel it in his mind, a blackened parasite eating away at the edge of his memories and sanity. He can feel it in the back of his mind screaming vile things about his friends, his family, himself. But it screams other things _You need me!_ It screams. France doesn't want to need it. So he shakes his head and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and he _cries_. But it chuckles. _The lady doth protest too much, methinks._ France hates it when he-it- whatever, does that. He takes the literature he loves from the person he loves and twists it around until France hates it. France hates _him_.

But then he thinks of acid. More specifically, he thinks of acid green. And the acid eats away at the madness whispering untruths to him, and sends the madness back for a time. He lets the acid run through his mind. Lets it reclaim the words written by a smart, smart man belonging to a beautiful, beautiful country. And France, still lying in his- _toolargetoobigshouldn'tsomeonebetherenothey'regontheylefttheyleftme_ \- bed smiles and relaxes and the madness is gone for a bit.

But then the madness comes back and whispers horrible, horrible things. And then the acid, the beautifully green acid, mixes with a liquid bluer than the sky. And France gets angry. Because the green and blue mix so naturally and make the most beautiful turqoise. And the madness whispers _So pretty a blue. You're not blue, are you? Yes, you are. But not this blue. This blue is clear and you're a cloudy, muddy_ _ **disgusting**_ _blue_. And France just wants the acid back. He wishes that sky had never come, had never been there at all. Because he hates that blue.

But then there is purple. And purple sunrise floods and joins the turquoise and it's a little unconventional but then there's more blue. But this blue is different. It's the opposite of the other blue. The other blue is the sky, this blue is the ocean. And the acid loves the ocean. It blends better with the ocean then it ever did with the sky. Because the sky looks better with it's purple sunrise and the acid is content swirling around the ocean.

But then there is ice. And the ice spreads and cracks across the ocean, until the ocean isn't an ocean anymore. It was never an ocean, it was only ever a lake. And the ice has frozen the lake and it is joined by a cruel sun, not warming, only dulling the pain because the ocean- no, the lake knows this sun. This sun is not supposed to be cruel. This sun is supposed to be kind and cheerful. But this sun has turned cruel and it sits and laughs as the acid and the sky and the sunrise fight and fight the ice for the ocean-turned-lake. And they're winning, thanks to the sky's help.

And the madness laughs and laughs and laughs and the sunrise and the sky and the acid fight and fight and fight the ice and the cruel, cruel sun all day. And they win, they win. But not until the end of the day. As the sun falls and the sky darkens, they win. Not France's sky, though. France's sky never darkens, and his acid never eats itself away and the sunrise never gets beyond that. A sunrise. It is merely a sunrise. And the sky is merely a sky. And sometimes France swears that his acid looks like a beautiful meadow, but then it is acid again. And France would never change it.

August 25. It is neither a good day nor a bad day. Madness eats at him, but then beautiful colours eat at _it_ and the madness is gone. France neither hates waking up to this day, nor loves experiencing it. He does not fight against Time-for how could anyone fight against Her?- nor does he blindly accept. And it is all because of one man, one Nation, one day.

August 25, 1944

YEA. I REGRET NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. YOU CANNOT FORCE ME TO EITHER

 **Yea. So. Not my best work, but I like it. Actually, that's a lie. I think this is my best work yet. At least in my opinion. If you didn't get it, the colours were their eyes. The acid was England, the sky was America, the sunrise was Canada (don't judge me, the sunrise is purple where I live), the ice is Germany and the sun was Italy. August 25, 1944 was the day the Allies got France back! Not exactly historical, really I just used it as an excuse to torture a Hetalia character other than America. No regrets.**

 **This is Italy's Driving saying;** _ **That's All Folks!**_


End file.
